


Baking with Guy

by Tormented_Gale



Category: Tales of the Abyss
Genre: Baking, Guy is an awesome baker, M/M, Sync cannot bake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-22 00:34:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2487914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tormented_Gale/pseuds/Tormented_Gale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr Prompt: Guy and Sync baking together</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baking with Guy

"Easy, easy - you aren’t trying to  _kill_ the eggs. Just beat them.”

"…What’s the difference?"

"Beating the eggs mixes them together and makes them lighter, fluffier, so they can be added to the flour mix."

He beats them mercilessly. Though his arm spins with the force of his attack, the whisk a weapon unparalleled, he still manages to keep it all in the bowl, much to both their surprises. His jaw is set, eyes narrowed, despite the flour that judiciously covers them both and the sugar scattered across the counter.

Guy sighs, one eyebrow raised and lips holding an exasperated smile. He steps up behind Sync and wraps his arms around so he can hold onto Sync’s hands. The young man freezes, glancing out of the corner of his eye at Guy, and the blond swears he sees a blush tinge those pale cheeks.

It’s adorable.

He’ll never say it out loud.

"Like this," Guy says gently and moves Sync’s hand. Their fingers are both sticky where they hold onto the whisk, but Guy can feel Sync relaxing against his chest while they mix together.

"This is too slow," Sync grumbles and nods at the swirled eggs.

"Well we’re done anyway," Guy says and begins to step away, but the sly smile is back on Sync’s lips, and the blond’s moving forward with him without the chance to say ‘What’re you doing?’.

They pour the eggs together into the flour, Guy easily able to see over Sync’s shoulder. The greenette dubiously considers the mess in front of them and frowns; Guy knows the look.

"You’re doing fine," he assures. "All we have left to add is the vanilla and finish mixing it. Then we’ll pour it in the pans."

"This is actually going to make a cake? It looks more like watered down dirt."

"Trust me."

Sync lets out a huff but continues, adding the vanilla in the quantity Guy says and mixes the rest together - “Gently, gently.” When Guy brings over the pans, they pour it together, the batter a little lumpy but just fine for a first-time baker. Guy smiles and nudges Sync’s arm.

"Good job."

Sync rolls his eyes. “That’s yet to be seen.”

As the cake bakes, they clean together: mopping up the floor and the countertops, clean the bowls, put away the supplies. By the time they’re done not nearly enough has past and Sync paces in front of the oven. He’s on edge, eyes locked on the oven door, and Guy simply leans on the countertop and watches. He knows what will happen if he speaks up.

Finally the  _ding!_ goes off and Sync lunges at the machine. He tears the door open and freezes. Guy comes up behind him and looks.

Inside is a perfectly round cake tin with a perfectly chocolately cake awaiting. Guy insists on testing it despite Sync’s protests and finds it’s done. Carefully he takes it out and places it on the stovetop, shooing Sync’s hands when the greenette reaches for it.

"It’s too hot - we need to wait for it to cool. Then we can frost it. I think I’ve got strawberries too."

Sync’s already protesting over Guy’s words, but at the mention of strawberries he stills and quiets. He actually waits. Guy can’t believe  _this_ is what makes him impatient. Baking is supposed to be relaxing; Sync tackles it like it might attack him.

When the cake is finally cool and on a plate, Guy gently frosts it while Sync stands anxiously off to the side. His hands clench into fists and back, fingers obviously itching to grab the first chunk he can. Guy tells himself to remember one thing: never get between Sync and sweets.

He finishes with a whole carton of strawberries on the top and cuts a slice for each of them. Sync practically yanks the plate from his grasp the second the cake touches down, thrusts a fork into it, and chomps down.

Guy watches his face go from pure bliss to confusion as he chews and swallows. Finally he makes a face and gives Guy a questioning look. The blond tries his own piece and grimaces.

"That’s not sugar," Sync says with a scrunched up face. Guy glances at the counter and groans. He’s right - it’s salt  _mixed in_ with sugar. Someone must have combined the bags at some point. No wonder it tastes off.

"Well that was a failure," Sync grumbles and looks utterly crestfallen. Guy plucks a strawberry from the top of the cake, walks over, and turns Sync around. The replica’s mouth opens in brief surprise and Guy gently pushes the strawberry in. Sync glares at first, but soon eats the strawberry in earnest.

"We’ll try again. I’m sure I’ve got more flour around here somewhere," Guy says with a smile. "If we’d gotten the right ingredients in there, it would have tasted perfect."

Sync looks unsure, so Guy leans down and kisses the juice sliding down the corner of his lips. A quick lick leaves Sync’s cheek clean.

"I still want cake," Sync said, "and I  _will_ bake it correctly.”

"I know," Guy assures and finds Sync offering him a small smile, "you never give up."


End file.
